Muse

11

"Look, these are all pictures of the paintings in my studio." Alex states as he takes his last sip of coffee, and I ignore the buzzing that was violently shaking my blazer on the back of my chair. "If we don't have enough time now to have a look... maybe you would want to come see them in person?"

Taken aback by his question, I sat for a second, trying to come up with an answer.

"It's not far from here, I could pick you up from work one day. I'll take you home too. It'll only be for a short while." He continues to plead his case. As charming and handsome as he is, I don't know this man well enough to go back to his house, let alone take me in his car.

"I mean," I pause weighing out my options before answering. I didn't want him to think that I was scared of him. "I'll come, but I'll drive myself."

"Deal." He smirks, extending his arm out to show the broad palm of his hand, reaching for a handshake. I slowly place my hand in his and he grips it firmly, gently giving it a good shake. "Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

"I am." I nod, barely being able to answer due to the ever present feeling of warmth radiating from his hand. I fear that mine began to sweat, they probably did. As I stare intently into his eyes, the corners of his mouth raise, almost as if he was excited, or god forbid...happy.

"Great. Here's my card." He pulls his hand away from mine to grab out the thick cardboard card from his pocket. The suddenness of the warmth leaving my hand snapping me out of my daze. "You won't regret it."

"You'd better make sure of that." I mock, pushing my chair out to stand up whilst I collect the small silver-finished card from his hand, assuming our meeting is over. I wondered why he was seeking my approval, I had no real power in the gallery, anyone else employed there would have more credibility than me. I still hadn't ordered Aaron's coffee and I was being bombarded with texts and calls from him, I didn't even need to see my phone to know it's screen was going to be filled with notifications.

"What, you're doubting me?" He raises a hand to his chest, as if he'd been wounded. I smile at his gesture.

"You can't be too cocky, Alex. How do I know the rest of the works aren't just some lines and dots squiggled around the page?" Did I really just use the word squiggle?

"Well, there goes half my collection." He huffs a repressed laughter, as he also stands up from his chair and drops the heavy binder back into his satchel. I watch as he stretches down to pick it up, the dark strands of unkept hair protesting the gel that was supposed to keep it down. They swung in front of his face, his eyes. To see his hair without the gel again. I feel warmth piling up in my cheeks, flushing my face red, which I could only hope was covered enough by my foundation. To say I have a tiny crush on this guy, and he invited me to his very own studio. My heart was absolutely racing.

"So are you going to just stand there and stare?" He raises an eyebrow, tugging his lips into a smile. His voice startled me, almost. Most certainly embarrassed me and made the redness in my cheeks undeniable. "Look, I don't blame you, you clearly have an eye for works of art."

I cross my arms over my chest, poking my hips to one side. I scoff, I couldn't think of anything else to say. "Shut up."

•••

I briskly stride through the automatic doors of the gallery, the sound of my shoes clicking transitioning from the concrete to the plaster floors. The hot coffee mounted in my hand sloshed around and occasionally made an appearance through the mouth hole of the cups lid, leaving nasty little droplets of scorching coffee drenching my hand. It was almost as if Aaron himself had possessed the coffee, his soul pushing the liquid onto my skin to tell me to hurry up before the entire cup ended up spilling on me.